


Unmasked

by enigmaticblue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce likes anonymity; losing that was never the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unmasked

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "secret identity discovered"

Bruce has done enough traveling that he’s used to anything and everything going wrong, so when it does, he’s able to shrug philosophically and take it in stride.

 

Most of the time, anyway.

 

He breaks that streak when he travels back to New York from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, through no fault of his own. He’d been in the DRC teaching physics at a school that one of Stark Industries’ many charitable efforts had set up. While someone else could have taught the eight-week course, Bruce likes getting away from the hustle and bustle of New York and the smooth efficiency of Stark Tower on occasion.

 

He’s just barely gotten used to being recognized as Tony Stark’s friend; he doesn’t want the notoriety that would come from going public with the fact that they’re actually dating.

 

But Bruce doesn’t mind the way people recognize him at the school, nodding pleasantly when they pass him in the hallways, calling him Professor, knocking tentatively on the steel door of the tiny room that serves as his office. He enjoys sitting down to dinner with the others who are more permanently stationed at the school, who ask him about his work but never about his past, or even his future.

 

Bruce likes being “Professor Banner,” and teaching students who are eager to learn everything he has to teach, who come to him after classroom hours with endless questions, and ply him food. The only thing they want from him is knowledge, and not inside information on Tony Stark, or Iron Man, or Stark Industries.

 

Here, he has a different brand of anonymity—one where people know him, but as nothing more than the physics professor. It’s comforting.

 

He’s reluctant to leave that kind of comfort, but he’d promised Tony he wouldn’t be gone longer than two months, so he makes arrangements to head back to New York after his final class.

 

At least, he plans to head back, but the chopper that’s supposed to get him to Kigoma Airport is canceled due to mechanical difficulties.

 

Bruce knows that he could call Tony at any point and get a private jet, and the red carpet treatment, and that would mean he’s not just another face in the crowd. It would mark him out as special, as someone to pay attention to.

 

He doesn’t want that; it’s the last thing he wants. Bruce just wants to live his life as quietly as possible.

 

So, Bruce leans against the rail and stares at the shore, which is just visible on the horizon. The sun is hot on the back of his neck as it sets, and the blue water is serene, the shore is a hazy green smudge. Bruce wonders if he’s going to have to call in a favor after all.

 

“We can take a boat, then a Jeep, Professor,” Antoine says in heavily accented English, joining Bruce at the rail. Antoine had served as a translator for Bruce over the last eight weeks, as he speaks fluent English and French. “I will get you to Kigoma.”

 

“I don’t want to impose, Antoine,” Bruce protests, although he knows that’s really the only option. The refitted steamer ship that serves as a school is relatively secure, but it’s also hard to get to.

 

“No imposition, Professor,” Antoine insists. “There are supplies the helicopter was supposed to bring, and I can collect them in Kigoma.”

 

There’s no objection Bruce can make to that, and he nods. “I’d really appreciate it. Thank you.”

 

“Well, I do have your email address, Professor Banner,” Antoine says with a laugh and a flash of white teeth. “I will be making use of it.”

 

“Please do,” Bruce replies. “You were one of my best students, and I’d be happy to help with whatever you need.”

 

Antoine is as good as his word, and since the steamer is close to Kigoma, the trip doesn’t take long. The airport is a relatively short drive away from the harbor and its waiting Land Rover, and Antoine leaves him at the entrance with an anxious look. “Are you certain you do not want me to stay?” he asks. “At least until you’re sure that your flight has not been canceled.”

 

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Bruce replies, the heat of the day causing sweat to roll down his spine. “Thank you.”

 

“ _Au revoir_ , Professor,” Antoine says. “I hope you will return.”

 

“I hope so, too,” Bruce says.

 

It turns out that his flight is delayed, but that suits Bruce fine because it means he hasn’t missed his flight. He pulls out his phone to call Tony and let him know that he’s going to be back late and curses under his breath when he realizes that the phone is dead.

 

The dust from the dirt-packed runway settles on Bruce, sticking to his sweat, and he wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. He manages to find a seat in the tiny airport and settles in to wait for his flight, telling himself that there’s no point in worrying.

 

Knowing Tony, he’ll hack a satellite and figure out where Bruce is, and that he’s been delayed. And Bruce would say it’s even odds as to whether Tony will take matters into his own hands and send a private jet to intercept him. So far, however, it seems that Bruce will be allowed to make his own way back.

 

The plane taking him away from Kigoma is small, and a little rickety, but Bruce tucks his chin against his chest and goes right to sleep. He’s mastered the art of the power nap while traveling, knowing that he’s got a long trip ahead of him.

 

In another life, Bruce would have taken a bus, but he has a little money for once, and he doesn’t want to take another two days to get home.

 

It’s funny to think about having a home, but as much as he enjoyed his time on Lake Tanganyika, he’s looking forward to seeing Tony again.

 

 _Home_ , Bruce thinks, and drifts off to sleep.

 

He has a long layover in Dar es Salaam, which has all the amenities, so he gets something to eat and goes to find an outlet, which is when he discovers that he doesn’t have his charger. Bruce has no idea where it is, but without it, he’s not going to be able to make a call any time soon, because he’s not about to try to place an international call on a pay phone.

 

And, okay, he doesn’t remember Tony’s number, since it’s programmed in his _phone_ , which is dead, and he’s not exactly used to having an emergency contact.

 

From Dar es Salaam, he gets a connecting flight to Doha, Qatar, where he has yet another long layover in yet another modern airport, and it’s there he starts to feel a sense of uneasiness. It’s nothing terribly obvious, just the occasional sidelong look, as though the person is trying to place him. Bruce wonders if they recognize him from the few times he’s made the papers with Tony, the only Avenger whose identity is widely known.

 

But their expressions aren’t just speculative; he sees fear as well. It might just be his imagination, but he had been on the run for a long time, and he trusts his gut.

 

Having people look at him in fear is never a good thing, but Bruce pushes it aside, telling himself that it’s all in his head.

 

Bruce tucks himself away in a corner, and tries to be as unobtrusive as possible, burying his nose in a cheap paperback mystery he’d purchased. Even so, he sees a number of people give him a second, disbelieving look as they pass, but he remains unmolested in Doha, and he boards the Qatar Airways flight without anyone saying anything to him directly, other than the flight attendant welcoming him aboard.

 

But once he’s on the flight, when Bruce would have preferred to tuck himself against the side of the plane—he has a window seat—he notices that there are more than a few people craning their necks to look in his direction.

 

He notices that it’s mostly what he assumes to be Americans, who glance away as soon as he catches their eye, as though they don’t want Bruce to see _them_. Bruce thinks he catches more than a few people snapping pictures of him with their phones before the pilot announces that they’re taxiing and insists that everyone turn off their electronic devices.

 

Bruce slides down in his seat, turning his face towards the window and closing his eyes. It’s childish, but if he can’t see them staring, then he can ignore them.

 

He refuses food and beverage, and waits until the lights dim, quietly grateful that the overnight flight means the cabin lights are dimmed. The flight attendant brings him a pillow and a blanket, and Bruce pulls the blanket up around his face, to make it that much harder for anybody to recognize him.

 

 _If_ they recognize him. Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

 

He’s asleep when the plane lands at JFK, and wakes with a start, although he stays where he is, keeping his face turned away from the aisle as the plane taxis to the gate. Bruce can hear rustling and beeps and chimes as those onboard turn their phones and other electronic devices on.

 

Since Bruce’s phone is dead, he doesn’t bother with it, faking sleep even as those around him rise and begin to make their way to the exit.

 

Bruce cracks an eye open when most of the noises fade, and then swiftly collects his bag from the overhead compartment and makes his way out. He’s one of the last to leave, but is somewhat reassured when the flight attendant says pleasantly, “Thank you for flying with us.”

 

He smiles and nods but doesn’t speak, hurrying off the plane and hitting a wall of people, all crowded around the gate, holding up smart phones and cameras.

 

Bruce freezes in his tracks, uncertain of how to proceed. Someone in the crowd says, “It’s the Hulk!” and his stomach twists unpleasantly as he glances around. Some appear mostly curious, others are barely masking their fear, and Bruce feels a little too much like an animal on display in a zoo.

 

He can’t believe how relieved he is to see two men and a woman in dark suits force their way through the crowd, opening a corridor for Tony, who waves cheerfully at those surrounding them.

 

The buzz from the crowd grows louder as Tony slings an arm over Bruce’s shoulders. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last two days,” he says in an undertone.

 

“Dead phone and no charger,” Bruce admits, feeling like an idiot. “Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Tony murmurs. “We’re going to get you out of here. SHIELD has already cleared things with Customs.”

 

Bruce doesn’t want to think about how relieved he is to have Tony at his side. “What happened?”

 

“Someone leaked news of your identity,” Tony admits, beginning to steer Bruce through the corridor the SHIELD agents have opened up. “Fury is, well, furious, and SHIELD is looking for the person responsible. I tried to warn you, but—”

 

“Dead phone,” Bruce supplies with a sigh.

 

They don’t have to go through Customs at all. The SHIELD agents lead them through a warren of hallways, and Tony keeps an arm around Bruce’s shoulders the entire time.

 

On the one hand, it’s comforting; on the other, if Tony’s meeting him at the airport with a several SHIELD agents, who have already cleared Bruce through Customs…

 

The situation might be worse than Bruce thought, since the agents lead them out a side entrance, which Bruce suspects is mostly for heads of state.

 

Funny enough, that doesn’t make him feel special.

 

Bruce is fairly certain he sees a couple of paparazzi—he’s hung out with Tony enough to be able to spot them easily—and then Tony pushes him into the back of a waiting car.

 

“The Tower,” Tony orders the driver, waving off the SHIELD agents. “I can take it from here,” he says as he shuts the door.

 

“What about my luggage?” Bruce protests.

 

“Taken care of,” Tony assures him. “Don’t worry. I got your back, Big Guy.”

 

Bruce rubs his eyes. “What the fuck, Tony?”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony says, his tone sympathetic. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to come out.”

 

“I didn’t want to come out at all!” Bruce protests. “Unless, _maybe_ , as your boyfriend.”

 

Tony kisses his temple. “Thank you. That means a lot. And to answer your question, I don’t know, but since no one can get a bead on the others’ identities, you’re getting the brunt of it.”

 

“This fucking sucks,” Bruce complains, because he’s tired and a little freaked out from all the attention. It reminds him too much of running from the Army.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony replies, and Bruce remembers that Tony had agreed to keep their relationship secret so that Bruce could avoid the inevitable limelight.

 

Bruce presses his forehead against Tony’s shoulder. “So, everybody knows.”

 

“About the Other Guy?” Tony asks. “I’m afraid so. There might be a few people who are living under a rock who haven’t heard, but you know how that goes. Nobody lives under a rock these days.”

 

Bruce rubs his forehead. “Great.”

 

“Think on the bright side,” Tony says cheerfully. “You can hole up in the Tower with me, at least until the furor dies down.”

 

Bruce smiles. “Oh, so there is a bright side to all this. Thanks for finding it.”

 

“Always happy to help,” Tony says. “Now, are you hungry? I can get something delivered.”

 

Bruce has to admit that he appreciates Tony’s solicitousness, even though he doesn’t much like what started it. “Yeah, I could eat,” Bruce admits. “And hey, thanks for coming to get me.”

 

“Any time,” Tony promises. “Always.”

 

And Bruce believes him. “Remind me to memorize your number,” he murmurs as the car pulls into the garage below the Tower.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because I could have called you collect from Qatar if I’d remembered,” Bruce replies. “And because I’m pretty sure you’re my emergency contact, and everybody should have at least one.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “You should get on that. Either that, or you could just stick around.”

 

Bruce smiles, and kisses him, ignoring the fact that the car is parked, just focusing on Tony. “Missed you,” he says when Tony breaks off the kiss.

 

“Yeah, same here, Bruce,” Tony murmurs. “Welcome home.”

 

And in spite of everything, Bruce can honestly say, “It’s good to be home.”

 

~~~~~

 

It might not be such a bad thing that the news of Bruce’s identity gets leaked right before he’s due to come back to the States. For the first week or so, Bruce is more than happy to hole up in the Tower with Tony, working on various projects and having a lot of reunion sex.

 

He doesn’t turn on the news to see what’s being said about him, and Tony doesn’t watch it while Bruce is around, if he watches it at all.

 

Fury calls him to apologize for the leak and tell him to lay low. “The furor will die out,” Fury assures him. “Sooner or later.”

 

“Can I get a time frame?” Bruce asks wryly.

 

“Until the next big piece of news,” Fury says. “Well, the next _really_ big piece of news. It’s a good thing it was you and not the others.”

 

Bruce bristles at that. “Oh? Why is that?”

 

“Because outing them would probably result in a loss of their lives, and the lives of anyone they have contact with,” Fury says. “So, look on the bright side.”

 

“Saving lives,” Bruce says sourly. “Right. Thanks for the support.”

 

“It’s the news cycle,” Fury replies pragmatically. “There isn’t much we can do.”

 

Bruce ends the call without responding, and he stares at the phone, before tossing it down on the worktable.

 

After their conversation, Bruce is feeling contrary, and he heads out of the Tower without telling anybody where he’s going, deciding that he’s going to get a cup of coffee at the café around the corner.

 

Two months ago—hell, a week ago, if he hadn’t been in the DRC—he could have done that without even a second glance in his direction. Today, Bruce notices the stares as soon as he walks through the lobby of the Tower, along with muffled whispers.

 

He resolutely ignores them, ducking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets. He’s kind of hoping that the stubble from several days of not shaving, plus the short hair he’d begun sporting in the DRC, would be enough of a disguise.

 

Apparently not. Half of those he passes on the street don’t look at him—which is pretty typical for New York City—but the other half falter as they walk past him, or give him a wide berth. Bruce can tell that they’re trying not to be obvious about it, but he’s used to reading people.

 

Right about now, he wishes he weren’t so good at it.

 

When he gets to the café, there are murmurs as he enters, and the line is five deep. A woman near the front of the line says, “You can cut in front of me if you want.”

 

Bruce shakes his head and quickly backs out, saying, “No, thanks, though.”

 

He goes a little further afield for his coffee, walking with his head down until he spots a coffee shop without anybody in line.

 

The barista does a double take, and then offers a nervous smile. “Hi. What can I get you?”

 

“Just a coffee, black,” Bruce says, not wanting to stay here any longer than he has to, especially as the half dozen patrons start looking at him and whispering.

 

He retreats as soon as he has his coffee, and immediately heads back to the Tower. Maybe in a few weeks no one will look twice at him, but he’s not there yet.

 

Bruce wonders how long he can stay in the Tower before he starts going stir crazy.

 

He finds Tony in his lab, and Tony glances up at him with a smile. “Hey. I hear you went out.”

 

Bruce sighs. “Is nothing secret?”

 

“I may have had Jarvis keeping an eye out for you,” Tony admits. “How was it?”

 

Bruce sits down on a lab stool near Tony. “Well, on the bright side, only about half of the people I saw seemed to recognize me.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “And on the not-so-bright side?”

 

“The people who did recognize me either crossed the street to get away from me, or did their best to placate me, even though I didn’t need to be placated,” Bruce admits. “It was really fucking annoying, for the record.”

 

Tony pokes Bruce in the side, hard, causing Bruce to jump.

 

“What the hell?” Bruce demands.

 

Tony grins. “So, who are you more annoyed at right now?”

 

Bruce chuckles. “Think I’m going to take you up on your offer to hide out in the Tower for a while.”

 

“Somehow, I think I can live with that possibility,” Tony replies, and hauls him in for a tight hug. “We’ll have the team over. You know they won’t look at you any differently.”

 

“Thank goodness for small favors,” Bruce mutters against Tony’s shoulder. “Maybe we should just go ahead and tell everybody about us,” Bruce suggests. “There’s no reason to hide now.”

 

Tony scratches the back of Bruce’s head the way he likes. “Only if that’s what you want. I’m willing to wait.”

 

“No,” Bruce says stubbornly. “If everybody is going to be talking about me, I’d rather they be talking about the fact that they have no idea how I landed such a hot boyfriend.”

 

Tony chuckles, and Bruce feels his chest vibrate. “Unlikely. They’re going to think I got the better end of the deal.”

 

“I’m the one with the anger issues,” Bruce replies.

 

“And you’ve maintained admirable control,” Tony says. “I can think of a reward.”

 

Bruce laughs, but he doesn’t say no. In truth, he could use the human contact right now. At least Tony has never treated him any differently. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

 

“Cheer up, Big Guy,” Tony says sympathetically. “At least you have me.”

 

Bruce isn’t sure what he wants more—his ability to remain anonymous or Tony—but decides that either way, he’s grateful to have Tony.

 

“Definitely,” Bruce says, and then draws Tony in for a kiss.

 

As a consolation prize, Tony more than makes up for what Bruce has lost. If nothing else, Tony doesn’t look at him any differently. He hadn’t known how important that would be until just now.

 

He’s got Tony; he has to believe that will be enough.


End file.
